Beyond the Bridge

by C D Beaudin

  Awyn smiles. “Of course. But this is something you cannot know.” She sighs. No one can. She walks past them up the path to the hall.

  Aradon and the other three watch her leave. Confusion and worry paint their faces as they linger at the bottom of the hill.

  “What can’t she tell us? What is it that we cannot know?” Aradon ponders.

  “I sense a dark presence. Perhaps she had another nightmare,” Eldowyn suggests.

  Aradon looks up as Awyn stands on the wooden deck outside the hall, her face looking out to the sea. She looks normal. Though, there is something familiar with the way her face is still.

  “She’s seen something. Something terrible.” Aradon points. “She hasn’t closed her eyes at all.”

  The other three squint to see.

  “Why should that matter?” Eldowyn asks.

  Aradon looks back at him. “Because it shields her from the horror she witnessed. The thing she won’t tell us about.”

  The four of them follow Aradon up the path, and eye up Awyn.

  “I can’t tell you. The challenge is too dangerous,” she says desperately, almost absentmindedly, but Dreema steps forward.

  “What challenge? Who is it with?” He grips her shoulders, and now servants and guards stare.

  Awyn audibly swallows. She blinks, and a sigh of relief escapes her. “It’s gone,” she mutters under her breath.

  “What is gone?” Dreema demands.

  She looks back at him. “I can’t tell you!”

  “You must.” He gives her a shake. She lashes out, clawing at him, three deep marks on his cheeks, and she gasps.

  Rumblings arise from passersby.

  Dreema holds his eye, and the elf, dwarf, and Aradon look at her in shock.

  Awyn turns away. “I’m sorry. He’s inside me, I can feel it.” She clutches herself.

  “Who is?” Eldowyn asks.

  Awyn turns to them. “I cannot tell you. Telling you wasn’t part of the deal.” She sighs. “I made a stupid mistake, and now I’m paying for it.”

  Dreema puts his hand on her shoulder, his face clear of any marks it had a moment earlier. With a sigh, he says, “Then let’s focus on something else.”

  He leads the way into the hall, where a large table has been laid out, maps, compasses, and documents are sprawled across the oak. Toccama stands at the head of the table, and Errek beside him. Red paint in the shape of wolf prints are painted onto the younger warrior’s chest, two lines of vertical red under his eyes. The chief has many of the same markings, only more, and blue. The five of them gather around the table.

  “We have been talking,” the chief starts. “We believe that the best option is to bring our army across the oceanfront.” He draws his finger along the edge of Mera.

  “Yes, but we will be trapped between the sea and Revera’s army if we travel along the ocean,” Aradon points out.

  The chief and prince nod, seeing he has a good point.

  “Perhaps if we went along the mountains, and through the pass, take out the beacons. It is obvious, but if we need to fight we have a larger battleground.”

  “But we will be trapped between Winter’s Pass and Vergo’s. It’s a death trap,” Errek chimes in.

  Awyn listens to all their ideas. The men spit different attacks and cavalries around the table, not getting anywhere with their arguing. They need to make a decision. Awyn needs to make a decision, and she’s the only one who can make it.

  “We will go Aradon’s way. Along the outside of the mountains. But instead of going through Vergo’s Pass, we will go through the Dark Woods.”

  Everyone is silent.

  “Awyn, the Dark Woods are perilous,” Eldowyn says.

  “Maybe, but Tamon will never expect it. That’s who we’re fighting. Revera has bigger plans than Mera.” She turns to Aradon. “We’ve made it through before.”

  “Yes, but there were only three of us and you almost turned into a Dalorin,” he says.

  “But isn’t it worth the risk? We have a better chance making it out alive with an entire army behind us.”

  Aradon sighs and turns to Toccama. “Are you willing to sacrifice some of your men to go through the Dark Woods?” he asks.

  “I am. War is sacrifice,” the chief states.

  Aradon nods. “Okay then, and as much as I hate to suggest this, I may have someone that…may be up for assisting us. Someone who knows his way through the Dark Woods better than me.”

  Awyn raises an eyebrow. “Who?”

  Aradon’s jaw tightens. “Let’s just say he owes me a big favor.”

  “Hey! Watch the cloak!” Saine yells as two guards throw him into a cell. He grunts as he falls to the hard, cold stone. “This is unlawful treatment. I deserve a proper judgment!”

  The guards laugh and leave him to himself.

  Saine huffs, standing up, and brushing the dirt off.

  “What did you do now?” The familiar voice turns Saine’s head. He scoffs when he sees Aradon’s smug face.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says in spite.

  “Very much so, yes. I mean, I told those guards to find you and bring you here, but they were really rough on your baby face. What did you do to get them so mad?” He leans against the frame of the metal-bar door.

  Saine’s lips tighten. “I might have…snatched their moneybags.”

  Aradon laughs. “Wow, you are a greenhorn! You never take gold away from a Tanean. They treat gold like it’s a human being.”

  Saine leans against the door, his arms hanging through the bars. “Yeah, well, I know that now.”

  Aradon snickers. “Well, that’s good.” He pulls Saine’s arms tightly, who grunts in pain as his body is pulled against the bars. “Listen to me. You will help my friend sneak into Kevah and kill the king there. If you don’t help, if you run, I will seek you out, and I will rip out your guts with my bare hands,” Aradon whispers into his friend’s ear. He forcefully lets go of Saine’s arms. “Now, what is your decision?”

  “Um, well, let’s see. Go on a suicide mission with whom my guess is the Princess of Mera who has an evil, powerful sorceress chasing her?” Saine mockingly thinks for a moment. “Sure, why not? I’ve always wanted to die saving the damsel in distress.”

  Aradon chuckles. “Awyn is hardly a damsel in distress. I know if she could, she would go by herself. Just don’t treat her like a fragile little girl, all right?”

  Saine salutes mockingly. Aradon rolls his eyes, unlocking the gate, letting Saine out, stopping him before they go any farther.

  “Remember I’ll kill you if you run.” He pats Saine on the back as he continues walking.

  The two of them enter the hall from the dungeon at the base of the hill. The group around the table straightens as they walk in.

  “Everyone, this is Saine. He will be more than happy to help us.” He tensely pushes Saine forward, making him stumble a bit.

  Saine puts on a smile.

  “Yes, I would love to help you.” He glances back at Aradon, his teeth gritted.

  Aradon gives him a mocking smile.

  Eldowyn walks out from between Errek and Dreema. “Saine?” he says, looking at him.

  “Yes, who—” Saine stands there, eyes wide, mouth open. “Eldowyn? Is that you?”

  “Saine!” The two embrace in a hug. “How have you been doing?”

  “Oh, you know, the same.”

  “Really? That’s great.” Eldowyn pauses for a moment and looks hesitant on the next question. “What about Adriel? How is she?”

  Saine’s smile drops. “Ah, you know, also the same,” he says quickly, and Eldowyn frowns, looking puzzled. Saine walks away from his old friend. He scans the room. “Where’s Kepp?”

  Awyn, Aradon, and Eldowyn’s faces all drop. “Um…with Revera.” Eldowyn looks down.

  Saine’s brow furrows, and he scoffs in disbelief. “What? Kepp? He would never—”

  “He joined Revera and then tried to kill me,” Eldowyn says
sharply.

  Saine can feel his furrowed brow rising. “You know, I’m not even surprised.” He wants to kill Revera for what she has done to Kepp, but he always knew that with even the slightest manipulation, all Kepp’s pent up anger toward his brother would release someday. Eldowyn was never safe from his younger twin. Saine knew that a long time ago. But now his friend is on the same side as Revera. The only explanation is that he went insane…or was cursed.

  “Saine? Are you still with us?”

  Saine looks up as Aradon steps in front of him. “Uh, yes.”

  Aradon backs away, and Saine sets his eyes on Awyn. “Let me guess, you are the fine princess?”

  “Fine isn’t the word I’d use,” Awyn says haughtily.

  Saine glances at Aradon. “Wow, you were right,” he mutters under his breath.

  “Yeah, now shut up,” Aradon whispers back.

  Saine looks back at Awyn, who has an irritated look on her face. He puts on a charming smile. “Okay, so I’m going to help you kill Lord Tamon.”

  “No. None of you are going to kill Tamon. That is my job. I want to watch as that stupid, little pudgy man falls to his knees and smile as he bleeds out for hours upon hours in agony. And when he finally drops dead, I will sleep like a baby.”

  Everyone in the room stares in surprise at her passionate violence, their eyes wide. She breathes in sharply. “Okay, so, when do we leave?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Revera tosses and turns on her black bed. Caught between the twilight sleeping and waking stage, the intense cold covers her, and the dark, soft, animal fur blanket is doing nothing to cloak her from the freeze. Beads of sweat cling to her face and neck, she shivers, and her teeth chatter violently.

  She calls these episodes night sweats. They happen every night. It’s a side effect of using the Eye of Aiocille. It was only meant for good hearts to look into, those who have evil in them can be killed or seriously hurt. Revera is powerful, so it only causes her these terrible fevers. But on especially bad nights, she wakes up screaming.

  She shoots up, her eyes wrench wide open, the sweat falling. Her hair is messy, and strands are stuck to her face. Under her eyes tear stains are gritty. Her breathing is rapid. She runs her fingers through her hair, trying to calm herself.

  Kepp bursts through the door and into the Black Room, rushing to Revera.

  “Are you all right, Mistress?” He sits on the edge of the bed.

  “The Eye of Aiocille sometimes grants its Master visions in the form of dreams. I think I just experienced a vision.” She looks at Kepp. “A foresight of the future.”

  “Permit me to hear your vision,” he says.

  “I was standing in the middle of Kevah’s throne room. Lord Tamon sat limply on the throne, blood across his neck as if he had been slain. Then I looked behind me and saw a man with shining armor. He was majestic. Powerful. Kingly. His sword dripped with Tamon’s blood.”

  “Tamon is going to be killed? By whom?” Kepp clasps her hand, urging her on to say more.

  Fear fills Revera’s stomach. “Idies.” The name leaves her lips like a wave crashing down on the shore.

  “Revera, King Idies died long ago. You must have seen someone else—”

  “No! I felt his great spirit. It’s strong. Alive.” She shakes her head, trying to think through why—and it comes to her. “There’s an heir. An heir to the throne of Nomarah.”

  Kepp’s brow furrows. “The legends say that the return of the king is supposed to be earth-shattering. Bringing back balance to the world. Can you see who he is?”

  Revera closes her eyes. “He is powerful, godly. But he has no name. Only known as the Bow—” Her eyes spring open. “The Bowman. The Dethroner of Kings. He will be the one to kill Tamon?”

  Aradon gazes upon the warm plains. The fields are beautiful this time of day. Sheep and cattle dot the grass grazing, and their young hobble around. The sun is hidden behind a shield of clouds, but the sky is a soft pale blue. The wind blows through the grass and trees. Aradon breathes in the fresh air.

  “Today is perfect for riding, don’t you agree?” Sefa says, gripping the end of her white horse’s mane.

  “Yes, but I don’t know how you can ride like that.” He gestures to the fact she’s riding bareback.

  Sefa trots closer to him, a coy smile on her face. “Every girl has her secrets.” She squeezes the horse, making it gallop forward.

  Aradon gathers himself, and kicks his own horse, urging it on faster to catch up with her. When they are side by side, they look at each other, tacitly agreeing to a race. Sefa clucks her tongue, and her horse flies through the air. The frill on her orange top dances in the wind, and the sash tying up her flowing red skirt blows behind her.

  Aradon urges his Everbreed on, passing her easily.

  “Hey! Not fair. You have a spirit horse on your side,” Sefa happily complains.

  They come to a stop when they reach the river. On the other side, red grass stretches out farther than they can see. Sefa pulls up closer to Aradon, a foot between their horses.

  “You are right. It is beautiful,” Aradon states breathlessly.

  “I’m always right,” Sefa boasts, her lips curved into a smirk. They look at each other, and both chuckle.

  “That you are.” He admires her. “That you are.” He places his hand on her cheek. They lean over and bring their lips to each other. The kiss is gentle, sweet. Sefa’s silky lips taste like apples. When the kiss breaks, Aradon sighs. “I’m going to miss you,” he says.

  “I will miss you too, but I know in my heart that you will come back.”

  He looks at her. He knows Sefa well, but at this moment he cannot tell if she’s lying. “We should get back.” He turns, and Sefa follows.

  Saine sits on a rock, staring at the sea in front of him. The smell of salt water fills the air, and seagulls squawk above the tides. The water washes up on the sand, the color turning from light to dark in a second.

  He always wondered, even as a kid, what magical land laid where the sky and sea touches. Maybe a land worth dying for. Or a land where there is no death. But to his right, lies the Isle of the Dead where the wronged, bad, and good spirits alike all dwell. An island of darkness and suffering. The black mountains that form it always have thundering clouds around it and strikes of lightning can be seen.

  “It’s a terrible place, isn’t it?” Saine turns to see Eldowyn standing there. “That’s where Revera is headed.”

  “Is she? Then what will happen to Kepp?” asks Saine.

  Eldowyn looks down at him, and sighs as he sits down beside him. “I honestly don’t care. He betrayed us for her. He’s not my brother anymore.”

  Saine scoffs. “Can you blame him?”

  Eldowyn looks at him, confused.

  “You were Rowan’s and Raea’s favorite son. You can’t possibly imagine how he felt.”

  “Can you?” Eldowyn asks.

  Saine looks at him. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. Adriel…” He nearly chokes on the name. “She’s missing. Probably dead.” A moment of silence passes.

  “I…I am sorry, Saine.”

  “She’s your sister, you should be more worried.”

  “Who says I’m not?” Eldowyn inquires, an edge to his voice.

  Saine nods. “Sorry, sometimes I forget that just because elves don’t show emotion, it doesn’t mean they don’t have any.” At that, he thinks of Kepp. He never hesitated to show what he was thinking. Sometimes he over compensated for the leash around his neck in Radian, but he was never afraid to be open about his thoughts.

  Saine sighs, looking out at the sea. “All I need to do is help Awyn, then I can go back to my life. Aradon won’t be mad at me anymore, and all can go back to normal.”

  “Normalcy will never return until Revera is dead,” Eldowyn says.

  Saine quirks an eyebrow at him. “Okay, then. My normal.”

  Eldowyn’s eyebrows crinkle. “Isn’t that selfish?”
<
br />   Saine groans, rolling his eyes. “I am a selfish person, Eldowyn. I am not an elf. I am not royalty. I am a thief, a killer, and I don’t give a darn about Revera. All I care about is myself.” He storms off, even though he doesn’t believe most of what he just said.

  Inside the hall, Awyn sits, staring at the sword in her hand. The golden handle shines in the light. The gleam of the silver sheen of the blade is daunting.

  I’m going to do it. I’m going to kill him. We just have to sneak past Revera first.

  She stands, sheathing the sword on her belt. She walks into a corridor where the harem is. Women talk, and little children run everywhere. There must be, well, at least ten kids. Including the older ones, Fora, Meena, Kralae, and Behlarahl. The oldest of the four, Meena, at fifteen, will be gaining her own room, away from the harem quite soon, Awyn imagines. Sefa and Errek get special treatment because their mother Finka was Toccama’s favorite wife, and she died when they were young kids. But Meena is very beautiful. Though, not as beautiful as Sefa.

  One of Toccama’s wives, Oparelle, walks toward Awyn, in her beautiful, bright yellow skirt and top, a sash of the same color hanging over her left shoulder, wrapped around her neck. Golden bangles hang around her wrists, and many rings cuff her fingers. A nose stud shines in the candlelight above from the chandelier, and her black hair is done up in a braided up-do showing her great beauty.

  The wife smiles. “Para, Awyn.” Para, an old greeting of the Taneans. Most of their ancient language is derived from the old elf tongue.

  “Para, Oparelle.” Awyn nods her head in respect. The wife passes, one of her little children running up to her, tucking under her arm.

  Another wife, Roah, walks by, a small girl in a pink dress in her arms, snuggled against the silver specked, tight velvet top. Her blue dress is also tight at her waist but hangs loose halfway down her thighs. With her silver jewels, and straight black hair hanging down her back, she’s also striking, as is the child with her shoulder length black hair. Narala.

  Errek must feel overwhelmed with this many sisters.